


A Pimple's Carol

by vogue91



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Early Work, F/M, Humor, Yule Ball (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22048420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vogue91/pseuds/vogue91
Summary: “Fred Weasley, can you please explain to me what the hell is going on? You’ve been weird for the whole night, and I’d like to know why. And more than that I’d like to know why the heck you keep the collar stuck on your face like that.”
Relationships: Angelina Johnson/Fred Weasley
Kudos: 2





	A Pimple's Carol

**A Pimple’s Carol**

“Would you mind telling me what’s your issue?” George asked him bluntly. That morning, his brother was definitely weird. He had entered the Three Broomsticks Inn quietly, quickly sitting down to an out of sight table, close to the back.

He had taken off his hat and gloves, but he refused to take off the scarf, which he was wearing up to his chin.

There was something wrong, and George was starting to lose his patience. Fred closed his eyes briefly, before raising them back on his brother. With slow and controlled movements, that did nothing but exasperate George even more, he removed the scarf.

“Look.” he murmured, dramatically. The other leant in, confused.

“I can’t see anything, Fred.” he pointed out, and his twin became red.

“How can you not see it?” he hissed, angry, pointing at his chin. When George focused on what he was being showed, he burst out laughing.

“This whole mystery for a lousy pimple, Fred? Are you serious?” he asked, in between his laughs.

The other one got even angrier, covering back his chin with the scarf.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know whether you remember it or not, but tonight’s the Yule Ball, and I’ve invited Angelina, and she’ll probably spend the whole evening laughing about this monstrosity that has magically appeared on my face this morning!” he replied.

George leant back onto the chair, his arms crossed. He pretended to ponder about the problem, while he didn’t stop staring at his brother, amused.

“Fred, I think I get what your problem is, and I may know how to solve it.” he said in the end. His brother wasn’t all that trusting, but in a last leap of hope he looked at him, waiting.

“So? What should I do?”

“Simple. The problem is clearly adolescence, and to make it pass you just need to wait until you become and adult.” Fred stood up, livid.

“It’ll be better to avoid a bloodshed inside the Three Broomsticks.” he hissed, then he turned away and left the pub, leaving George who was still splitting his side laughing.

~

He definitely felt ridiculous, and he was sure that Angelina was going to feel the same.

The collar of the dress robe was raised to cover a good half of his face, but he didn’t know what else to do.

That afternoon, trying to find a magical solution to his problem, he had done nothing but getting things worse. A lot.

He went slowly towards the Great Hall, like a condemned man.

Angelina was at the end of the stairs, she was waiting for him. Fred jumped.

She looked damn fine, and it would’ve usually been pleased, but right now it did nothing but increase his discomfort.

When the girl saw him she smiled openly, which made Fred almost forget what he had been through that day. Smiling, however, he realized that moving his face too much the collar would’ve moved, uncovering his face. He forced himself to stay as still as possible.

“Hi, Angelina. You look really good.” he told her, his voice neutral, keeping the fabric well pressed against the faulty part. She looked at him bewildered, but didn’t stop smiling.

“Hi, Fred. Thank you. You... look good too.” she answered, hesitating. Fred realized he must’ve looked pretty strange, but it worried him less than what showing his face would’ve done.

He took Angelina’s arm, and together they walked toward the Great Hall.

The boy sighed. It was going to be a very long night.

~

“You do realize that walking around like a terrorist won’t make you gain any point with Angelina, don’t you?” his brother whispered in his ear when he approached the table to take some punch. He turned around, irritated.

“It’s not so easy, George.” he murmured, checking that nobody was listening in on them. “I’ve tried to make it go away this afternoon and it didn’t work.” he explained, provoking once again his brother’s hilarity.

“Worse than it was today at the Three Broomsticks? I can’t imagine what you could’ve possibly done.” he ironized, shutting up when he saw Angelina going toward them, a menace on her face. “Good luck.” he whispered, then disappeared.

“You!” the girl told him. “Come with me, now.” she ordered, pointing to the yard.

Fred followed her, unwillingly.

As soon as they were outside, she turned to face him. She was furious, which didn’t let him hope for anything good.

“Fred Weasley, can you please explain to me what the hell is going on? You’ve been weird for the whole night, and I’d like to know why. And more than that I’d like to know why the heck you keep the collar stuck on your face like that.” she told him, direct.

“Why, what’s wrong with that?” he asked, trying to sound as surprised as possible. The art of denying evidence had never been his forte, he had to admit that. Angelina arched an eyebrow, and smiled devilishly.

“It’s not that hard. If you didn’t feel like coming to the ball with me, you should’ve just not invited me in the first place.” she provoked him.

She had cornered him.

He didn’t feel like ruining the night more than he had already done. And yet, he was still tormented by the thought of his face in the mirror.

He was still thinking about what to do, when Angelina snorted and made as to walk away.

“Wait, wait! Ok, do you really wanna know what’s wrong?” he asked, loud. He was dangerously red, and the girl noticed. She stayed still in front of him, waiting.

Slowly, Fred lowered the collar, revealing his chin, deeply reddened and completely covered in pimples.

Angelina stared at him, far too long. After that, she started chuckling, until she was laughing out loud, cheerfully.

Fred gritted his teeth, trying to clutching on his dignity. “I bet you found me less weird when I had my face covered.” he said, sarcastic, while she slowly recovered.

“Oh, Fred!” she exclaimed, tenderly. “Haven’t you heard? We’re teen-agers, I think we can stand a few pimples here and there without acting like it’s the end of the world!” she mocked him.

“It was just one this morning. Then I’ve tried this spell that...” she didn’t let him finish, and she started laughing again, more politely this time.

“Never try this kind of spells, and I’m talking out of experience. They do nothing but make things worse.” she advised him, and the boy said a very low ‘Come on, I hadn’t realized that’, but she ignored him. “Come on, let’s take a walk. I would never want to expose you to public scorn.” she told him, taking his arm and walking with his toward the garden.

Fred didn’t really care much for her mocking tone.

For sure he appreciated much more the light kiss she planted on his lips.

Maybe, he admitted to himself, it was silly to be this vain.

In the end, he was a teen-ager, he could’ve afforded a few little imperfection, right?

While they walked under the clear sky, he felt something in the pit of his stomach.

Pimples would’ve gone away.

Angelina, probably, wouldn’t.


End file.
